Hell of a Mess
by Jedi Buttercup
Summary: "Sooner or later, it had been inevitable they'd have a moment to themselves. None of Toretto's crew in earshot, no Neves watching him, no one for either of them to perform for." Brian/Mia, Brian/Hobbs, Hobbs/Mia.
1. Made That Way

**Title**: Made That Way

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Disclaimer**: The world belongs to Justin Lin, Vin Diesel, et. al. The words are mine.

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: Fast Five (2011)

**Summary**: _Sooner or later, it had been inevitable they'd have a moment to themselves. None of Toretto's crew in earshot, no Neves watching him, no one for either of them to perform for._ 1500 words.

**Notes**: A missing scene ficlet from the Fast and Furious kink meme. Brian and Hobbs only interact directly a few times on screen, but there's some interesting stuff there, and what they say **about** each other is kind of interesting too.

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><p>Sooner or later, it had been inevitable they'd have a moment to themselves. None of Toretto's crew in earshot, no Neves watching him, no one for either of them to perform for. Hobbs waited and watched, the raw anger and pain of his team's murders simmering under his skin to tangle with older, still healing wounds, and seized the opportunity the moment it arrived.<p>

"So. Five years in deep cover, huh?" he said, tilting his chin up as he stared down Toretto's partner in crime. "Brian _O'Connor_." Spilner. Cole. _Whatever_. He could still hardly believe the shit that had come out of the man's mouth about being a _hero_, after everything.

O'Connor's mouth twitched unhappily at the corners, but he stared right back, those electric blue eyes of his unyielding and unapologetic. "Luke," he acknowledged with a nod. "When I heard what they were saying about us and the DEA agents, I figured you might be the one they'd send."

He sounded genuine. But then, he always did, the lying asshole. How the hell was Hobbs supposed to believe his instincts where Brian was concerned anymore? Part of the draw of Brian had always been the fire he let Hobbs kindle under that cool, slick surface; provoking him and watching the reactions had always been part of the fun. But then the news had broken, and the file had crossed Hobbs' desk, and he'd realized he'd never really known _anything_ about the incandescent adrenaline junkie he'd picked up during his last rotation back to headquarters.

"Fool me twice, shame on me," he replied, narrowing his eyes at him. Wasn't going to happen.

He'd seen the notes in O'Connor's file from the Feds- from Trinh, an agent who'd worked closely with him in the L.A. office, and Bilkins, the one who'd facilitated his application to the FBI in the first place. Trinh had known he was a troublemaker, and Bilkins had had every reason to distrust the former cop- and O'Connor had _still_ charmed them into letting their guards down. But both agents had met the man on a professional level. The thing between him and O'Connor was a little more personal than that.

O'Connor finally winced a little, shifting his gaze somewhere out over Hobbs' shoulder. "Listen, man, when I found out you were DSS, I asked my handler if I could clue you in," he said, quietly.

_Right_. That might even be true. But both men knew why they were there, and the unspoken undercurrents burned like acid on Hobbs' tongue as he finished O'Connor's excuse for him. "The security of the investigation was paramount, and they didn't want to read in another agency."

"Yeah. Sorry, man." O'Connor's eyes met his again, acknowledgement in them but no hint of regret. Hobbs was glad. He didn't think he could have taken that hypocrisy, on top of everything else.

"At least now I know why you never stuck around, or let me help out." He shook his head. "I thought you just didn't _want_ to get out, or that you had something to prove."

He'd known Brian was involved in some deep shit in the underbelly of the nation's capital, but he'd been far too careful to leave any actual proof for Hobbs to find. He'd never even taken Hobbs back to his place; they'd met in bars and garages more often than not. So Hobbs had done his level best to _persuade_ Brian loose of that life before the cops could catch up with him, before he became just another face on a Wanted poster. What fucking irony.

Of course, that bulletproof stubbornness had always been part of the draw, too. People had been backing down to Hobbs all his life- there was always a fascination for him in the ones who didn't.

Hobbs thought back to the first entries in O'Connor's file, and wondered darkly if the day of that last truck heist had felt anything like _this_ to the rookie cop he'd been then, or if Brian had just been _born_ an ice-souled son of a bitch.

"Fucking job," O'Connor muttered roughly, sweeping a hand over his head. He'd had it longer when Hobbs knew him before, all blond-tipped curls; it looked wrong on him now, a dirty washwater shade of brown and hacked close to his skull, just starting to bronze in the South American sun. He was tan, too; sweaty, scruffy around the edges, and more gorgeous than he'd ever been tarted up in city polish.

"I never planned on any of it, you know. You really messed with my head."

"Yeah, I can see that." Hobbs tipped his chin toward the far side of the room where Toretto was bent over a car, low murmurs carrying as he discussed some aspect of their reworked plan with Seoul-Oh.

O'Connor's gaze briefly followed his; then he flushed, jaw firming as he deliberately focused all his attention back on Hobbs. "It isn't like that," he said, no hesitation to the words at all.

Right. If he thought Hobbs would buy that, then he hadn't really known _Hobbs_, either. A blind man could see the similarities. And the differences.

"Isn't it?" he asked scornfully, crossing his arms over his chest.

O'Connor's gaze flickered down, drawn by the motion, then back up again, and there was a wariness in the lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before. "I'm with Mia," he replied, baldly.

"Yeah, and?" Hobbs chuckled sourly. "She wasn't the one gave up your _job_ for. Twice. Like I said, I've seen your file, _O'Connor_."

He didn't add, _nor did you bend the rules, even a little, in D.C._ He'd just disappeared one day, nor had he contacted Hobbs when it was all over. Habit, maybe; according to the file, he hadn't seen the Torettos for five years either. But that didn't sweeten the taste at all.

O'Connor seemed to get that; he looked a little green around the edges, though there was still no give in his spine, no pulling back to leave Hobbs ground to meet him on. "Luke, man..."

"It's Agent Hobbs to you, _O'Connor_," he cut him off, making the line clear.

O'Connor ground his jaw again and shook his head, grease-stained hands drawing up tight into fists. Hobbs didn't think he needed to worry about a physical fight like the one with Toretto, though- which was a good thing, since he wasn't sure it would stay a fight at all.

"Luke... when I met them..." O'Connor began, then threw an arm out as though to encompass the cars, the people, the entire situation they were currently in. "_This_ is about family," he continued, shrugging helplessly, as if that explained everything.

"Yeah, I _got_ that, thanks," Hobbs snorted in response.

"I'm _sorry_," O'Connor replied, voicing rising a little as his anger started getting the better of him.

"You expect that to mean something to me?" Hobbs demanded of him. "I'm here to do a job. And I'm _going_ to do that job, after we're done here."

Something about that took the wind out of O'Connor's sails, though; he pulled back a little, hackles lowering. "I never expected anything else," he said.

"There a problem here?" a third voice growled. Toretto's; he'd finally noticed their conversation.

"No, no problem, Dom," O'Connor said, without even turning to look. "I was just- trying to say I was sorry about what happened to his team."

"Thought you knew better than to prod a wounded bear, Brian," Toretto told him, but the hand he dropped on the back of O'Connor's skull belied the grimness of his tone. "You're the one who warned us about him, remember?"

O'Connor relaxed- just a fraction, but Hobbs could see it in him- at that touch.

Something in him faltered at the sight; the noxious cocktail of emotion that had kept him on his feet since the ambush started to ebb, leaking out of him like water from a cracked vase.

What _had_ Brian told Toretto about him? Did it even matter, in the end? Hobbs had barely had a chance to mourn his team, and their friend was still cold on the table. There were more important concerns.

"They were good men," he said gruffly. "I appreciate the sentiment. But what I'll appreciate _more_ is seeing Reyes dead. What happens after- we'll deal with then."

"We'll see," Toretto nodded to him, gravely. Then he turned to leave. Brian followed right behind him, one last searing look thrown over his shoulder.

Only one thing in Rio had gone like Hobbs had planned: tracking down Toretto and O'Connor. He'd told Neves they were just names on a list; as pissed as he'd been, he hadn't wanted to hear her justifications. But things were _always_ more complicated than that.

Life was simpler in their world; you made choices and didn't look back.

Hobbs sighed, then rubbed a hand over his face. They'd settle this another day. In the meantime, there was justice to be had.

-x-


	2. Exercises in Frustration

**Title**: Exercises in Frustration

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Disclaimer**: The world belongs to Justin Lin, Vin Diesel, et. al. The words are mine.

**Rating**: M

**Spoilers**: Fast Five (2011)

**Summary**: _Mia grinned acknowledgement, but leaned up again anyway, breath feathering warm over Luke's mouth. "I'm not hearing a no," she said softly._ 2200 words.

**Notes**: Hobbs/Mia, with frustration, handcuffs, and implied Brian/Mia and Brian/Hobbs. Post-movie, in the same 'verse as "Made That Way". This fandom does inexplicable things to my Muse.

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><p>Mia Toretto shifted on the couch, throwing her hair back with an irritated sigh, and directed a glare through her lashes at Luke for the third time in the last five minutes. If it was an attempt to distract him from his watch for her lover, it wouldn't work; but he also had no doubt she could make a much bigger nuisance of herself if she chose to, and he had no idea how long it would take Brian O'Conner to return from whatever errand had taken him out of the house.<p>

"What?" he barked at her, keeping his attention fixed on the window. "If you have something else to say, then say it."

They'd already gone over the basics: the fact that yes, they were in a non-extradition country; the statistics on high value fugitives that had been 'liberated' from such countries over the years and successfully extradited from intermediary destinations; and how ridiculous it was for her to have brought the subject up in the first place, considering the methods O'Conner had used to snare Arturo Braga in the dying days of his FBI career. She'd wanted to know how Luke had tracked them, too; but that was one secret he was holding close. He didn't want her to warn Elena. Or for Elena to get herself in trouble trying to warn _her_ lover. He'd liked her; she'd have been a good cop, if only she hadn't met Dominic Toretto.

So wouldn't they all, Luke thought, smiling grimly to himself.

Mia snorted, shifting again as she rubbed at her wrists under the snug metal of the handcuffs. "Nothing," she said. "It's just- you're betting a lot on the fact that Brian never learned how to stop loving people."

For half a second, it felt as though his breath had frozen in his lungs; then Luke exhaled, hoping the brief hitch hadn't been noticed. She had to be talking about something other than what his mind had first jumped to; why the hell would O'Conner have told her?

"The point being?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "If you're trying to tell me he'll go along peaceably in order to protect you and your child," he dropped his gaze to indicate her ripe belly, "I was pretty much counting on it, actually."

She flushed a little at that, though she didn't seem any more cowed than her brother ever had. Her chin lifted slightly, and her dark eyes flashed at him. "Men," she said disdainfully, then looked away again. And that seemed to be the end of that.

Luke shook his head, then went back to his vigil.

Another relatively quiet five minutes passed, interrupted only by more shifting noises from the couch. Luke was just starting to wonder how long it would be before he had to start making allowances for the size of a very pregnant woman's bladder, when her patience broke and her gaze started boring into the side of his head again.

"_What_?" he growled, shooting a glare in her direction.

Mia's lips thinned, and she gave a brief, evaluating glance up and down his torso. "At least his taste is consistent," she said.

"Excuse me?" he fired back, caught off guard again. That was a little harder to imagine an alternate interpretation for. But even if she did know, or had guessed, why the fuck was she bringing it up?

The corners of her mouth curved up a little, though it wasn't exactly a happy smile. She looked _predatory_, actually, if he had to put a word to it; not quite jealous or angry, but _focused_ with an edge of underlying frustration. It made him feel deeply uneasy on some level; he was starting to regret not paying more attention to her when they'd met before.

"You think I didn't see you talking to Brian at the factory?" she replied. "I'm not blind. And you're hardly the first testosterone poisoned ex of his I've had the pleasure of meeting."

Luke remembered the way her brother had palmed the back of Brian's head- the fatigue of that moment when he'd realized Brian had never been his to grasp in the first place- and nodded in recognition, mouth thinned to an irritable line. "I noticed that much myself," he said. "I don't see why you think it should have any bearing on the matter at hand."

She studied him a moment, then laughed a little, shaking her head. "You think I mean Dom? God, if _only_. No, whatever might go on in my brother's head, he only dates women, and he's pretty determined to stay oblivious. He treats Brian like a brother, like he used to treat Vince. Especially now." She gestured with her bound hands, emphasizing her pregnancy.

Luke wasn't sure he believed that; he'd seen with his own eyes how close the two men were. Then again, why would Mia lie? She couldn't possibly think it would change anything about the situation they found themselves in. "Again, I don't see why you think I should care."

She shook her head at that. "Moron. It's a good thing I love him as much as I do." Her gaze softened for a moment as she stared toward the window, mind obviously with her errant boyfriend. Then she narrowed her eyes at Luke again. "We flagged your record, you know; I _know_ that you didn't leave Rio smelling like a rose. I'd guess you're not here officially, either; your file shows you stuck in DC until you finish selecting and training a new team."

He'd flagged Tej Parker as the technical mastermind of their crew, but clearly the lady of the house had skills as well. "And what makes you think I haven't?" he snarled, stung by the reminder of everything _else_ he'd lost in his pursuit of her family.

She made a show of looking around the airy living room of the little home. "I don't see anyone here but you. How do you expect to get both of us out of the country without any help?"

Luke clenched his jaw again. Like hell he was going to tell her he hadn't actually expected to find them here; he'd been following up on one of several faint leads while 'taking some time to think things over,' as his boss had put it. He'd had a lot of PTO coming. "I'll manage. If you know so much about me, you know I won't let him go again, no matter what happens."

Something flashed in her eyes at that, and her chin went up again. "I'm counting on that, actually," she said obliquely, then scooted to the edge of the couch and finally made the request he'd expected earlier. "But that can wait. Would you uncuff me for five minutes, if I swear not to run? I really need to visit the ladies' room, unless you want it to get fairly unpleasant in here."

Luke considered. He was pretty sure it wouldn't take much longer; Brian would never leave his pregnant lover alone for long without a very good reason. There weren't many facts he could say he knew about the man, considering the undercover agent had spent their entire relationship lying to Luke about who and what he was, but Mia was right about one thing: his _behavior_ was very consistent. Brian was pretty damn possessive about whomever he was with- and if that happened to be _her_ now rather than _him_, all it meant was Luke had a better than usual window on how his target would act in the heat of the moment.

"I'd think that'd bother you more than me." Let her be the one to feel uncomfortable for a moment. He'd give in, of course- it wasn't as though she were a guy, and he could just unzip her and tell her to shake it out- but it was a cheap way to reestablish control of the situation, and the fact that he even needed to do so was proof he was off his game. _She_ was the one in handcuffs here, not him.

Mia blinked at that, staring at him- and then her face just _fell_, lower lip slightly pouted, dark eyes luminous with a faint shine. "Please?" she asked, a plaintive note in her voice.

Luke was half out of his chair before he realized she'd done it intentionally. He took a frustrated breath, then unstrapped his pistol to drop it out of her reach and strolled over, as casually as he could. "And why should I believe you won't make trouble when I uncuff you?" he demanded, staring down the ten inches that separated them in height.

She smiled a little at that, though her eyes were still wide and soft. God, she was gorgeous. Something else Mia was right about: Brian did have consistent taste. Luke had met another of Brian's female flames since leaving Rio- a Customs agent out of Florida named Fuentes who seemed more bemused than surprised by the news of Brian's second defection from government service- and she was also a strong woman, slim and dark-haired with just that slight reckless edge to her smile.

She'd been goddamn tempting, too. And just as off-limits, though for professional reasons as much as personal. He'd made it a rule not to foul his own nest long before meeting Brian, and doubly so since the shock of the moment when he'd turned on the news to discover that his months-missing ex was suddenly a _rogue federal agent_. Broken oaths, broken faith, and a crack in a particular organ half his co-workers would have sworn Luke Hobbs didn't have.

It twinged again, as he stared down at the woman Brian had chosen to spend the rest of his life with.

"I'd hardly need to be uncuffed to cause trouble," Mia shrugged, then lifted her hands slightly between them. "But I know when to pick my battles."

"Is that so." He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, still distrusting that guileless expression.

"Mmm," she said, biting briefly at her lower lip. "For example." Then she surged up on her toes, pressing her mouth against his without warning.

Luke froze, reaching instinctively to grasp her shoulders, and gave a sudden shudder as she brushed the fingertips of her still-bound hands down the line of his sternum. Then he took a step back, setting her away from him, staring at her in disbelief.

"What the hell, woman?" he barked.

She smiled again, sharp with something like triumph. "If you have to ask," she said, taking a step toward him to close the distance again.

"Yes, I do have to ask," he insisted, capturing her shoulders again to hold her at arm's length. "_Why_?"

The smile faded. "Brian loves me. And we're happy here. But there's a part of him that's never been mine, and we both know it. Elena says you're a good man, and my brother likes you, which as I once said to Brian he never, ever does. And it's not as though you're hard on the eyes." She dragged her gaze over him again from head to toe in blatant appraisal.

"That's a whole lot of other people's reasons," he frowned back, unsettled. He let himself imagine what she seemed to be suggesting for a moment- adding dark eyes, the sweep of long hair, and the soft press of breasts to the vivid sense memories he had of Brian's long, lean form shuddering under him- then shook his head and banished the images, trying to even out his breathing. There had to be some trick, here. "What's in this for you?"

"Maybe I just can't resist conflicted cops," she said, wetting her lips with her tongue. "Maybe I have a few fantasies I never got to try out when I was pretending to be the good girl back in L.A. Or maybe... I want to put my mark on something of _Brian's_ for once."

Something in his gut clenched at that, and Luke wondered how the hell he'd ever thought Mia was the weakest one of the trio he was chasing. "Or maybe, you're trying to distract me into letting the pair of you go," he said, roughly.

She grinned acknowledgement, but leaned up again anyway, breath feathering warm over his mouth. "I'm not hearing a no," she said softly, leaving the next move up to him.

_Put my mark on something of Brian's_, she'd said. The idea sank claws and teeth along Luke' spine; he felt it crackle along his nerves, something selfish and thwarted that had been burning in him like a slow fuse for far too long. The restraint he'd been trying to maintain gave with a near-audible snap. He dropped a hand to Mia's hip, pulling her close against him, the hard swell of her belly pressed against his stiffening cock; the other he thrust into her hair as he claimed her lips.

Gun forgotten across the room, wits sunk in his dick- of _course_ it was at that exact moment that Luke's other quarry returned, blue eyes widening as he took in the tableau awaiting him.

Negotiations got a little more... involved, after that.

-x-


	3. Not Today

**Title**: Not Today

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Disclaimer**: The world belongs to Justin Lin, Vin Diesel, et. al. The words are mine.

**Rating**: M

**Spoilers**: Fast Five (2011)

**Summary**: _Somewhere in the middle of it all, between the burning flash of rage in Brian's eyes and the taste of Mia on his tongue, Luke had decided he might as well pour gasoline on the fire._ 1500 words.

**Notes**: This is the _optimistic_ version of what might come next after the Mia/Hobbs "Exercises in Frustration" and the Brian/Hobbs "Made That Way". Definite threesome implications (yet another first this fandom has inflicted on me).

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><p>For the first time in a long time- he couldn't have put a figure to it in his muzzy, sleep-weighted state, but it had definitely been <em>long<em>- Luke Hobbs drifted to the surface of awareness in an utterly relaxed state. Somewhere in the background, a vague hint of unease niggled at him; but he was _warm_, sticky and sore in a way that suggested he'd been utterly fucked out, and for the first time since the first news broadcast about Brian O'Conner he didn't feel even a hint of a stress headache.

Wherever he was, whoever he'd done, he didn't give a shit if it meant he felt this good.

He yawned into the soft, clean linen under his nose, then shifted a little to get the knee out of his balls. The slight movement pulled at _other_ intimate areas that hadn't been sore in a month of Sundays, and nudged another bed partner behind him; he could feel at least three hands, a breast, that knee, and someone else's morning erection against various parts of his person. Not a bad way to wake up. A little unusual, maybe, but an encouraging set of sensations. Idly, he wondered what the hell they'd had to drink and why in fuck he wasn't feeling the hangover yet, but he was still too wrung out to care.

He'd figure it out eventually. In the meantime... Luke yawned again and let himself drift awhile longer, consciousness blurring into the background white noise of waves and the soft breeze drying his skin.

He couldn't have said how much time passed before it finally dawned on him that wavesong and warm breezes were _not_ usually conditions he could expect to find in his bedroom. Not to mention that one of his wrists _ached_ as if he'd fallen asleep wearing handcuffs. That wasn't a kink he usually explored with bed partners he didn't trust. He wrinkled his brow, irritation sifting slowly up through the fog of contentment permeating his cells, and pondered the necessity of prying his eyelids up enough to figure out what exactly was going on.

Someone else had beaten him to the awareness stakes, though. He could hear footsteps, a heavy tread on wooden floorboards muffled by an intervening door, and then the creak of that door swinging open.

"What the _fuck_," an all too familiar voice ground out. "O'Conner!"

"Shhhh!" the owner of the erection at Luke's back hissed, propping up on an elbow. "Keep it down, Dom. They're still asleep."

Alarm flushed through Luke's system, quashing his lazy arousal. His breath hitched a little before he could get it under control, prompting a broad, callused hand to stroke absently over his shoulder. He let it soothe him back to stillness while his brain raced, struggling to piece the previous day back together.

"_They_, Brian?" the first voice growled again, quieter but if possible even rougher. Dominic Toretto's voice _always_ sounded as though it were filtered through gravel. "Tell me that's not Agent Hobbs laying next to my sister!"

The second voice sighed: a sound Luke could identify as resigned amusement without even a look at the speaker's face. He'd fucked the man off and on for a little more than two years before his bad boy of a lover had disappeared and morphed into ex-Agent O'Conner, and the familiar sound still tugged at his dick despite all the months and betrayals between them.

"Your sister's safer than I am," Brian snorted. "He's the _good_ guy, remember?"

What the _hell_ had possessed him to track Brian down and jump into bed with him instead of arresting him?

"Brian?" the softer form in front of him murmured sleepily, then turned, pressing a dome of taut skin up against his thigh. "What's going on?"

Oh. Right: Mia. The woman who had thoroughly fucked with his mind when he'd tried to hold her as bait for her lover- and, evidence suggested, most of the rest of him afterward.

"Nothing, babe," Brian murmured. "Go back to sleep. Your brother's just yelling at me."

"Tell him to do it later," she yawned into Luke's chest, then snuggled closer.

Luke shifted instinctively to wrap an arm around her- and the ache in his wrist instantly redoubled as he was caught short of his goal. Handcuffs. Right. More memory filtered back: Brian catching him with his hand in Mia's hair, her mouth on his, and his handgun abandoned halfway across the room. He'd come damned close to getting shot before Mia talked Brian down. But somewhere in the middle of it all, between the burning flash of rage in Brian's eyes, the taste of Mia on his tongue, and the snick of the cuffs being fastened around his _own_ wrists, he'd decided he might as well pour gasoline on the fire. Turnabout was fair play in their book, and opened a lot more opportunities than kneeling there waiting for them to call Mia's brother.

More aches were starting to wake up as he lay there cataloguing the events of the evening. He'd never really believed what they said about horniness in pregnant women, but damn if Mia Toretto hadn't proven him wrong. It had taken both of them to keep up with her at first- he could feel the sting of half-moon fingernail marks on his hips and the back of his neck- and by the time he'd got his hands on Brian alone most of the rage had bled over into an earthier kind of passion. Fuck his hindbrain for getting caught up in it; it was no wonder he'd slept so well. But this wasn't two years ago. Brian was his mark now, not his semi regular bed partner, and if Mia Toretto had proven herself to be made of the same steel-strong stuff that always got his motor running... she was still in the same category as Brian. _And_ Brian's, for a double dose of terrible idea. Which made basking in the afterglow a suicidal prospect, never mind daydreaming about a repeat engagement.

Ah, well. He'd feel a little less like an idiot this morning if he had managed to stay awake as planned, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He was alive; he'd had some truly spectacular sex; and he'd left marks on Brian that the fucker would be feeling a lot longer than those broken oaths of his. So maybe _cara_ Mia had got the better of this particular exchange, but he wasn't completely down for the count yet.

"Damn it, Brian," the other Toretto sighed again after a long pause, then made an irritated sound. "Put some fucking clothes on. I'm making breakfast." Then he shut the door again and strode away.

"Done playing possum yet?" Brian murmured after a moment, tracing his fingers over Luke's shoulder again. "Nice tattoo, by the way. I like it."

Luke sighed and finally slit his eyes open, staring at the top of a dark head of hair tangling in his beard. "This doesn't change anything," he replied, gruffly, turning his head to look into intent blue eyes.

"Never said it did," Brian shrugged, smirking at him. "Was a lot of fun, though, wasn't it?" Then he sobered a little, glancing down at the still-dozing woman sharing the bed with them. "I _did_ miss you, you know. Mia's a goddess, but..." He shrugged. "I never felt right about lying to you."

Luke lifted an eyebrow at him. "You think any of that should matter?" he asked. "_You_ may have been comfortable betraying your badge, but I'm not made that way. You're still on my list, Brian."

"And how's that working out for you?" Brian replied with a snort.

"Mmm, it's too early for this conversation," Mia complained, stirring again. "If you're going to spoil my morning with dick-measuring, at least you could put them to good use." She stretched lazily, sitting up and letting the sheets pool unselfconsciously around her stomach.

"Hey," Brian said, expression softening into a goofy smile as he leaned around Luke to give her a wake-up kiss.

Something in Luke's chest twinged painfully, and he tugged on the handcuffs again. "You going to take these off me now, or do you plan to leave me here while you pack up and escape?" he growled.

Mia broke away from the lingering liplock and grinned, as beautiful and deadly as his favorite knife. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked, reaching over to wrap her hand around a part of him that was definitely taking interest in the proceedings.

"Fuck!" he hissed, arching up against her as he dug the nails of his free hand into Brian's thigh.

"Though so," Brian laughed, stroking his thumbs down Luke's spine with an obvious goal in mind. "Just remember this next time you chase us down."

"I d-don't think there's any danger of me forgetting," he panted, already starting to sweat again.

Going crazy, maybe. But never forgetting.

He'd get the better of them one day. But- not just yet.

-x-


	4. This Changes Everything

**Title**: This Changes Everything

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Disclaimer**: The world belongs to Justin Lin, Vin Diesel, et. al. The words are mine.

**Rating**: T

**Spoilers**: Fast & Furious 6 (2013)

**Summary**: _"I didn't do it because of DC," Luke says. "Or because of our little game of tag. I did it because it's the right thing to do."_ 1300 words; Hobbs/Brian/(Mia).

**Notes**: missing scene to fit Fast & Furious 6 into my "Hell of a Mess" Brian/Hobbs/Mia 'verse. Because I'm feeling nostalgic, because Paul Walker, and because Hobbs still doesn't get enough play in this fandom.

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><p>There isn't much time between the moment Shaw walks out with that billion dollar chip- fucking Riley strutting at his side- and Toretto's team kitting up to go after him. No privacy, not in the middle of a NATO base where he's just drawn down on its commander, his quasi-legal pretext for running around with a team of criminals collapsing around him. Just enough time for a few, quiet words.<p>

A forearm clasp, two pairs of eyes meeting in acknowledgement. But sometimes, that's all it takes.

Luke Hobbs had asked himself once if Brian O'Conner had been born an ice-souled son of a bitch, but staring into the blazing blue gaze of his on-again, mostly off-again lover, he's forced to admit he'd been blinded by his own anger. Brian's anguish over the fate of his child's mother, his determination to save her, his gratitude at Luke's intervention; they're all there in his face, visible to anyone who cares to look.

Not that that's anything new, really. His emotions have _always_ been written in every line of his posture, worn on his shirt sleeves and tucked in the wry quirk at the corner of his mouth. It's the secrets he hides under those layers of truth that had made Luke wonder, smarting bitterly from the burn of one such discovery, whether the man was nothing more than a pretty wrapper over emptiness and lies.

"Hobbs..." Brian chokes out, fingers clasped tight enough to leave a ring of bruises above Luke's wrist.

"Luke," he corrects the other man, gently.

A muscle spasms in the angle of Brian's jaw. "Luke, then. I can't thank you enough. You don't know..."

"Don't," Luke cuts him off, shaking his head.

He really doesn't need to hear the rest of that sentence. He hadn't done it for the thanks, and no, he _doesn't_ know what it must be like to wake up every day next to a smart, gorgeous partner he's allowed to claim in public. For reasons that are pretty fucking obvious. But he'd fallen a little in love with Mia Toretto himself one evening in a beach house somewhere between Brazil and the Canaries, and it can be argued that she never would've been at risk in the first place if he hadn't jumped at the first chance he got to rope her family back into his business.

"I didn't do it because of DC," he continued, gruffly. "Or because of our little game of tag. I did it because it's the right thing to do."

Brian swallows at the brush-off, a frown flickering between his brows as he glances away and finally lets go of Luke's arm. "Of course. I never for a moment thought- and I know Dom doesn't, either."

A small, petty corner of Luke's soul clenches with satisfaction at that. He hadn't gone to Toretto simply because the man is the acknowledged patriarch of his team, or because he was the easiest one to track down, or because there's more than a little 'but for the grace go I' in the respect Luke grudgingly feels for him. Brian's address has been burning a hole in his pocket for months, and given the fact that the ex-fed had been the one to send Letty Ortiz undercover on the mission that supposedly got her killed, Luke would've had just as much excuse to dangle his bait at the O'Conner household first. But Luke's never claimed to be a saint, and second fiddle's never been his favorite chair in the orchestra. After the way they left him cuffed to a headboard with no promises, this sign that maybe Brian still does give a shit what Luke thinks evens the score, just a little.

But while he might not be a saint- he's never been deliberately cruel where it's not deserved, and he'd started this conversation with the intention of clearing the air, not twisting the knife. "That's not to say," he concedes, softening his tone, "that I didn't have an ulterior motive in mind for arranging those pardons. I would have liked to try it again, without the warrants and the threats this time. And I'd never forgive myself if she got hurt because of something I did- or didn't- do."

Brian's eyes flick back to Luke's face, widening as he scans his expression. Whatever he finds there seems to reassure him, because after a moment, a quicksilver smile flashes across his face, crinkling lines finally starting to show the marks of passing years bracketing his eyes and enough white teeth on display to dazzle anyone looking directly at him.

"She's the one who told me and Dom to come, you know," he snorts. "So I don't think you get to claim all the credit. And I notice you didn't say anything about the handcuffs, either."

Luke flexes his right hand, feeling the ghost of a familiar, bone-deep ache in that wrist, and feels the corner of his mouth turn up in a smirk. "Somehow, I didn't think that'd be a deal-breaker for you."

Their eyes meet for a long moment, fire snapping between them the way it always has.

Then the world breaks back in, the way it always does.

"Boys," Toretto interrupts, a warning note in his voice as he breaks away from a low-voiced conversation with Ortiz. "Think you might oughta table that conversation 'til she's here to have it with you?"

The tension between them breaks with an almost audible sound, and the rest of the world floods back in with it: the lightning-fast clatter of keys from Parker's corner and the tromp of heavy shoes around them.

Pearce scoffs as he picks through the weapons crates, lifting out a pair of shotguns. "Man, why'd you gotta bring that up? Now we _all_ gotta stare at the elephant in the room. And it _still_ smells like baby oil." He shudders theatrically.

Red rises under the days-old scruff on Brian's face, and he punches Pearce in the arm before reaching for a handgun. "Shut up, Rome. You don't hear me cracking jokes about _your_ love life."

Luke shakes his head. These fucking people. He'd taken that job in Brazil- literally taken the file right out of the hands of another agent- because he was incandescently _furious_ at Brian, and put everything he had into tracking him down to make him pay for more than just breaking the law. Instead, Brian's new family had snared him up and sunk roots like fucking kudzu. He's enjoyed the last week more than any job he's been on since putting Rio in the rearview.

Even with all the damage Shaw's done. Even with Riley's fresh betrayal leaving another gaping hole in his career. Even with a hostage out there whose life depends on what they all do next. He's not exactly ready to toss the badge and cross the street to their side. But if they can still get that chip back... well, they'll just have to wait and see, won't they?

"Speaking of baby oil," he realizes, belatedly. "Shaw didn't mention your kid."

Brian nods, reaching to tuck his handgun in the back of his jeans, mind back on track. "Mia had Elena with her- _she'd_ have taken Jack. So all we gotta worry about is Mia. And if Tej is on the ball..."

"_If_?" Parker snorts, then looks up. "I just jammed every signal up and down the spectrum."

The metal-on-metal sounds of slides racking back echo around them, and Pearce thrusts one of the shotguns into Toretto's hands.

It's time. From here on out, they'll either win their future, or go out trying.

Toretto shoulders the shotgun as Luke locks eyes with Brian one last time. Yeah, they'll be having that conversation again; he won't admit to any other possibility.

"Let's move."

-x-


End file.
